


The Lovely Month of May

by aleksrothis



Series: Breaking The Ice [2]
Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - BDSM, Frottage, Hair-pulling, Impact Play, M/M, Praise Kink, Rimming, Watersports
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-23
Updated: 2018-11-25
Packaged: 2019-08-27 20:13:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16709269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aleksrothis/pseuds/aleksrothis
Summary: *Pairings and tags apply to different chapters*There's something special about May, and winning deserves a reward.  Even if it isn't your win.Ch1: Ovi/BackstromCh2: Matthews/EichelCh3: Rakell/Klingberg





	1. Our Winning Season (Backstrom/Ovechkin)

Sitting in the press box Nicke feels helpless. 

If they go out to the Pens in the second round again, he thinks he might scream. He hates not having any control of the situation.

Nicke wishes he could be out there with his team but he knows he can barely even hold a stick right now, let alone play. Still, he’s not going to let a mere broken finger stop him being there for his boys afterwards.

He tries to look calm but it clearly isn’t enough as Andre leans closer, pressing their shoulders together. Nicke wraps his fingers around Andre’s wrist, offering comfort in return. On his other side Tom wisely doesn’t say anything; Nicke has already pointed out he’s only here due to his own carelessness.

The third period seems to last hours and, as the game extends on into overtime, Nicke begins to wonder how long he will have to just sit here and watch. They pass the five minute mark of a normal overtime and time is dragging out. Nicke has a sudden mental image of being still sat here hours later - like the KHL match in March which had gone into the fifth overtime.

Then Kuzy races up the ice and Nicke's holding his breath and suddenly the puck is behind Murray and they’ve done it. They’ve won! They’re through!

Andre hugs him, then Tom, eyes wild with excitement. Nicke feels a wave of elation but he pushes it away to hurry down to the locker room. He knows the team have to get through the handshake line first but he needs to be there when they get off the ice, when Alex gets off the ice.

He waits at Alex’s stall, offering small nods and short words of praise to the rest of the team as they file in.

Alex is the last one but, the moment he enters the room, their eyes meet and as he gives a roar of victory it is like all the rest of the sound in the room is whisked out, leaving nothing but his presence.

Their embrace might only last a few seconds but Nicke can feel how much Alex is shaking. He is skating on the high of winning right now but Nicke knows him too well to think it will last.

It sends a thrill through him in return, the thought of channelling all that energy, of helping Alex let go. Alex presents himself as the traditional dom captain so well some people are never aware he is actually a switch, but Nicke knows him better. 

Alex might be the team captain but no-one disputed that Nicke was their dom and Alex has never been anything but submissive for Nicke, even if he can be a brat sometimes. Nicke has dommed a lot of his teammates over the years, the Caps seemingly having a knack for collecting talented but needy subs, but Alex is special to him.

Nicke sends Alex to shower and goes around the room checking up on the rest of the team; a hand on Eller’s shoulder, a few words of encouragement for Devo. It settles something in him that had been unbalanced watching his team play without out him, taking care of them now.

Oshie is already leaning on Carly, who's petting his hair; Kuzy and Orly are sitting close together, chatting in fast Russian Nicke doesn't bother trying to interpret; Vrana and Djoos have dragged Andre into their orbit so Nicke doesn't have to worry about any of them for now.

He settles back in the stall next to Alex's, mentally preparing himself for what comes next. This is about Alex, not him, and while Nicke will still enjoy every moment of it he wants to be in the right mindset.

Nicke had already set things in motion with Brock, to ensure their equipment is taken without them, expecting Alex would need him after the game though he had hardly dared hope it would be in celebration. So the trainers are expecting it and Trotz knows their dynamic well enough by now that the team bus won't wait for them. They'll catch an Uber or something to meet the others at the airport.

Alex starts to dress in his game-day suit as usual, giving no obvious sign that he needs a helping hand but Nicke catches the way Alex's eyes keep landing on him. He smiles encouragingly and Alex takes a deep breath and settles again.

The locker room eventually clears out, leaving just the two of them. A lot of the team don’t seem to realise what's going on, or perhaps they're just giving them some privacy. 

Holts pauses before leaving but Nicke waves him off. He isn’t going to risk doing anything to injure his broken finger further but neither is he going to let it hold him back. He can put Alex down without pain, especially when he isn’t going to be desperate to be punished.

Living with Alex in Moscow during the lock-out season had been eye-opening. In public, every trait that Nicke thought of as 'Ovi' was turned up to eleven, the perfect image of a dominant player, but once they were alone Alex would fall apart to be put back together under Nicke's hands. After that, Nicke ensured Alex knew he could always count on him.

Nicke walks round behind him now, admiring. Alex has left his jacket and tie off, and his shirt collar is unbuttoned, showing off his bare throat, where Nicke wishes he could leave his mark, but that would invite too many questions.

He pushes down on the back of Alex's neck, putting Alex on his knees. He goes easily. “Always so good for me,” Nicke tells him and Alex shudders.

He gets Alex to cross his wrists behind his back, leaving him helpless to do anything but stay where Nicke moves him with his good hand tight in Alex's salt and pepper hair. It's always intoxicating to have all Alex's strength stilled beneath him.

Nicke moves to sit in the stall in front of Alex, resting his injured hand on Alex's shoulder, where he can feel every tremor that runs through him.

“So proud of you tonight,” he starts, feeling Alex shudder again at the praise. “Getting it done out there for me, for our boys.”

Alex falls apart at praise, always quicker to take on criticism and so rarely accepting he deserves his acclaim. His mouth hangs open as he takes deep gasping breaths, his broad, expressive features already going slack. Nicke’s never known anyone who goes down to simple words as quickly as Alex does.

For a moment Nicke just holds Alex like this, watching the tension run out of him and feeling the satisfaction of knowing he is responsible.

When Alex starts to fidget impatiently, Nicke tightens his grip in his hair and uses it to tip Alex's head back. “Are you going to be good for me now?”

Alex just blinks back up at him. His mouth moves but no words come out, as though he's overwhelmed so soon. Nicke feels warm, his own sense of dominance steadying, hardening his focus.

He pushes his foot between Alex's knees, forcing him to spread his legs until his shin is pressed against Alex's crotch and he can feel how hard Alex is already. “Take what you need,” he tells him.

Alex tentatively grinds against Nicke's leg, looking to him for approval.

Nicke licks his lips, waits a long breath, letting the moment stretch out, Alex's mute appeal stoking his own arousal. Then he smiles. “That's it, go on.”

Now he's sure he's doing what Nicke wants Alex continues, his hips moving with more urgency.

With Nicke still in his suit and Alex mostly dressed, it must be uncomfortable, the friction of two layers of fabric, three if he’s wearing briefs, but Alex moans as he moves as though he can’t imagine anything better.

Each thrust causes Nicke to tug at Alex's hair and he shifts his grip so his fingers dig into Alex's scalp. He stares into Alex's unfocused gaze, feeling a familiar thrill run through him. It feels so good to know he's the one Alex trusts to let go like this.

Nicke keeps up the stream of praise, slipping into Swedish once he knows Alex is fully down and is only reacting to his tone anyway. In his native tongue he can be more honest than he dares to be in English, telling Alex how beautiful he looks like this, how honored Nicke is by his trust.

When it becomes clear Alex is getting close, Nicke is tempted to make him finish in his pants but he knows that wouldn't be fair when they still have a flight to get through.

Instead he pulls his leg back and waits until Alex opens his eyes, blinking dazedly up at him. “Undo your pants,” Nicke tells him and Alex fumbles to obey.

He hadn't been wearing briefs and the flushed head of his cock juts out as soon as he pulls down his zipper. “Pretty,” Nicke says, and is delighted when Alex flushes. “Touch yourself,” he commands.

Alex is eager to wrap his hand around his cock and stroke himself roughly, his breath coming fast.

“Slower,” Nicke tells him and then, as Alex follows his instruction, “That’s good.”

Alex rests his forehead on Nicke’s thigh and Nicke can feel him trembling. He makes him take his time, building up the tension until Alex is whimpering with need. “Do you want to come, Alex?” he asks, tugging on his hair.

“Пожалуйста, Nicke,” he pleads, English long gone.

Nicke gives him another few moments - he always feels so powerful, so in control at this moment, with a sub waiting on his word for their pleasure - before telling him simply, “Come.”

Alex finishes between one breath and the next, spilling over his hand and the floor, panting heavily. 

Though Nicke is still hard, he ignores his own arousal. That isn’t what he gets out of domming, his satisfaction coming from enforcing his will, watching his sub unwind beneath him, giving them what they need. With Alex especially, he knows there are some things he can only accept when he has no other choice.

He cleans up Alex, and the floor, with wipes from his bag, the Russian too far gone to be coordinated enough to help, then pulls him to his feet. Nicke texts the number Brooks had given him for a discreet local cab firm and helps Alex stumble through the mostly deserted arena.

By the time they get about halfway, Alex starts to carry more of his own weight and, before they get to the doors, Nicke has had a text saying their car has arrived.

Alex lists against him in the car and Nicke wraps an arm around his shoulders. He knows Alex won’t allow him to do much in the way of aftercare, needs his image with the team untainted by the idea of his subbing, so he makes do with what time they have alone.

Nicke takes a quiet pride in taking care of Alex so well that no-one ever even notices he needs it. He prefers to be overlooked. Henrik never understood it. Surely the point of managing difficult subs like Alex was to be able to boast about it. But Nicke knew no sub would ever mistake him for anything else so what did it matter what ignorant American doms assumed?

Traffic is quiet now so it’s not a long drive until they are pulling up outside the airport, one of the team’s trainers lingering there to guide them to where the rest of the team is waiting.

Fortunately, they had timed their arrival to coincide with boarding and, by the time everyone was settled, Alex was back to his usual self. No-one looking at Alex would be able to tell he'd been on his knees for Nicke less than an hour before.

Nicke settles into his seat with the satisfaction of a job well done.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter specific tags: Praise kink, Frottage


	2. (You’ve Got to Be) In It to Win It (Eichel/Matthews)

It wasn’t that Auston disliked Jack, but they weren’t as close as some of the other USNDT guys. Which was obviously why they were hanging out at Jack’s rental in Boston, having watched Team USA win their World Championships quarter-final. Auston hadn’t thought too long before turning down the offer to play and Jack’s ankle had been bothering him for a while so they were both having to enjoy it vicariously.

Since his epiphany at the hands of Doughty, Auston had spent a lot of time thinking about what it meant to be a switch (and not a small amount of it watching porn) and he was willing to admit he wanted to experience subbing again. 

He hadn’t realised how much it had helped until Marty had commented how the All-Star game must be good for him, that he looked a lot more relaxed.

Auston needs to pick someone safe though; someone who won’t use it against him, but also someone he doesn’t have to see on a regular basis if it goes badly. As much as he trusts his teammates, he can’t imagine having to face them everyday if it didn’t work out.

He hadn’t exactly planned on asking Jack, wasn’t even sure how he would bring it up, but he can’t deny he has thought about it.

None of his imaginings had been like this though. Auston had tried to change the channel and their wrestling for the remote had ended with Jack pinning him face-down on the carpet and suddenly Auston realises he is getting hard. 

Okay, so he has at least 20 pounds on Jack and could probably push him off if he wanted, but he really doesn’t want to right now. It probably isn’t fair on Jack but even this helps relieve some of his tension.

Jack pulls back so Auston can roll over, which he does reluctantly, but doesn’t move away. He glances down the length of Auston’s body and Auston flushes, knowing Jack must be able to see his arousal.

“You’re not a sub,” Jack says, accusingly.

“No,” Auston hunches his shoulders defensively. “But I am a switch.”

“Huh.” There is something in Jack’s expression Auston can’t quite interpret, then he pulls away.

Auston feels suddenly bereft and sits up, with the sofa at his back, and pulls his knees up in front of him.

An expression he can’t interpret crosses Jack’s face before he asks, “Have you subbed actually before? I’m not being your experiment.”

“Of course,” Auston tries to sound confident. It wasn’t as though he was lying and he wasn’t an actual virgin anyway, far from it. 

“What do you like then?” Jack’s tone is challenging.

Auston flashes back to the All-Star game and Doughty. It's hard to pick out just one thing but he doesn’t want Jack to realise he's as inexperienced as he actually is. He tries to focus. The blindfold had helped then but he wants to see Jack's face, to know he's affecting him too. And he'd liked most of the sensation play but he doesn't know what Jack has to hand.

Auston must hesitate too long, indecision showing on his face, as Jack relents. “How about I tell you what I like then?”

He shrugs, trying for nonchalance. “Whatever.”

“We don’t have to do anything,” Jack says and reaches over, as though to pick up the remote.

Auston feels a wave of disappointment. “Wait-” He does want more so he tries to come up with something more helpful but his mind is blank. “I’m not fussy. Anything you want to do to me.” Part of him knows that’s dangerous but he trusts Jack.

Jack raises an eyebrow. “Anything? What if I said... I wanted to piss on you?”

Auston feels his face heat at the idea but it isn’t the turn-off Jack seems to expect it to be. “I could be into that,” he says.

Jack looks stunned but quickly recovers. He narrows his eyes. “You’re not just saying that?”

He shakes his head. He doesn’t know why but something about the thought of it makes him shudder. Auston can’t quite bring himself to meet Jack’s gaze as he says, “I’d like to try.”

There’s another pause then Jack lets out a deep breath. “Sure. Why not.” 

He stands and for a moment Auston thinks he’s just going to pull out his dick and do it here and now. But then Jack shrugs and says, “It'll be easier in the shower.”

Even though Auston knows his way around Jack’s place, it feels different to follow after him like this. With his eyes to the ground, he isn’t looking so he walks into Jack’s back when he stops suddenly.

Jack turns to face him. “Look, if we’re going to do this, I want to do it properly.” Jack straightens his shoulders, pulling himself up to his full height.

Auston always forgets how tall Jack actually was, not taller than him but close enough that he is forced to look him straight in the eye.

“What’s your safeword?” Jack asks.

“Safeword,” Auston says with a shrug. He’d googled how to pick one, after the All-Star game; and half the advice seemed to be to choose something which would kill the mood instantly so he’d considered something like ‘Bettman’ but really Auston didn’t even want to think something like that in relation to a scene. 

Lots of other sites suggested food, or colors but, for casual play, for someone who wasn’t used to submitting, a few places had recommended just using ‘safeword’ itself and Auston could cope with that.

Jack gives him a searching look and Auston tries to look as certain as he can. Now he’s so close to getting this, he doesn’t want to do anything to get in the way.

It must be enough as Jack holds the bathroom door for him. “Okay then, clothes off.”

Auston has spent half his life in locker rooms and it’s easy to pull his shirt over his head, kick off his socks but then he gets to his jeans and his hands are shaking. He finally manages to undo them and pushes them off along with his briefs, glancing over at Jack but he is still dressed.

He feels warm, certain his face is flushed. Auston knows it ought to be humiliating, to be naked when Jack isn’t, or that Jack is about to piss on him, but somehow the thought makes it even better.

Auston kneels in the shower, on an old towel Jack had dropped in the bottom of the cubicle to protect his knees. His erection has faded in the chilled air but the anticipation sends a thrill through him.

“Close your eyes,” Jack tells him.

There is a long moment where nothing happens and then there is a sensation of warm liquid hitting his chin. Auston can smell the piss; there’s no denying what it is and he feels dizzy at the thought.

He wants to look, to watch Jack doing this to him, but the stream moves up his face, over his cheeks until it flows across his eyelids. Auston gasp and it runs into his open mouth. 

The taste is unpleasant, but not enough to take away from the way the rest of it feels. If anything, it enhances the sensations. All his senses are overwhelmed and it feels like there is nothing else in the world but the two of them.

Auston manages to keep his eyes closed and he feels the liquid running down his face, over his chest, over his dick, which is definitely hard now.

“Fuck, you look so good. I can’t believe you’re letting me do this,” Jack gasps.

When the flow stops, Jack rubs his thumbs over Auston’s eyelids and he blinks his eyes open. Jack is looking down at him, an awed expression on his face. His dick is still right in front of Auston’s mouth, now half-hard, and Auston wants to taste it.

“I’ve never done this before,” he warns and Jack gives him a confused look as Auston leans forward and runs his tongue up the length.

It is warm and Jack’s crotch still smells musky but Auston finds himself salivating. He isn’t sure where to start, as he tries to open his mouth wide enough to take Jack’s dick in. He’s had this done to him enough times but he hadn’t really been concentrating on their technique.

“Give me your hand,” Jack says and, when Auston obeys, he guides it around the base of his dick.

Jack is cut, like he is, but it is still strange to be holding another man’s dick in his hand. Auston tries again and manages to suck on the head. He still isn’t quite sure if he's doing it right but he knows enough to keep his teeth covered.

He feels Jack’s fingers brushing through his hair and looks up.

“So fucking good, Aus,” Jack tells him and Auston starts to feel everything going hazy again, just like in Tampa when he’d been overwhelmed by it. He wants to be good for Jack, can’t think about anything else.

He can feel spit dripping down his chin and wants to wipe it away but he can't seem to find the necessary coordination and Jack doesn’t seem to mind.

Jack’s fingers tighten in his hair as Auston moans around his dick. He can feel his jaw relaxing as he gives in to Jack’s control, letting him thrust into his mouth. It doesn’t seem so hard now, so simple to let Jack decide how deep he can go and all Auston needs to do is take it.

He loses time, he must do, drifting to the sensation and the tone of Jack's commentary. Auston feels hot all over, the flush must cover his whole body and he is so hard he aches.

He can't see or smell or taste anything but Jack, his whole world narrowing down to the hand in his hair and the dick in his mouth. He is vaguely conscious of the hand tightening and Jack's thrusts becoming more urgent before his mouth is suddenly filled with hot, bitter tasting cum.

Then more hot streams of it across his cheek and chin, dripping down onto his chest, following the same path the piss had already. Auston feels his own dick twitch in sympathy and he pants up at Jack, who drops to his knees next to him.

“Fuck, that was good. Look at you, such a slut for it, so eager Aus. You want to come? Are you going to come for me?”

Auston isn't sure he can speak, his lips and tongue feel swollen, his throat aches. He blinks stupidly, nods and tries to answer but Jack already has a hand on his dick. His grip is tighter than Auston would normally prefer but he is so close it barely matters.

He gasps and comes so hard he sees stars. It’s like nothing he’s ever felt before, Auston feels wrung out.

He slumps forward into Jack's embrace and let's everything float away for a while.

Jack moves his hands across Auston’s back and shoulders, gradually pulling him back to the present. Eventually, Jack stands and offers a hand to help Auston to his feet.

Auston sways, feeling light-headed, but Jack supports his weight. “Shower?”

A shower sounds great and Auston nods but when Jack pulls away he feels a moment of panic and grabs at his hands. “Stay?” He feels slightly pathetic for asking but Jack only smiles.

“I need to get some towels. You get started and I'll come back and join you.”

Auston's racing heart calms again. He turns the water on and nearly moans. It's the perfect heat and pressure. He still didn't feel coordinated enough to do anything but stand under the stream, letting it sluice away the piss and cum.

Jack returns. “You still want to share?”

“Please,” Auston says, feeling self-conscious about how needy he sounds but Jack only smiles and steps in beside him.

“Can I help?” Jack asks, reaching for the bottle of body wash.

He soaps them both up, running his hands all over Auston's body, all the places he’d made a mess of him, then presses right into Auston's space to rinse off.

When they're done, Jack takes one of the towels, soft and huge, and wraps Auston up in it. Auston assumes they're done and is starting to feel embarrassed, already thinking about what excuse to make, though he isn't looking forward to putting his jeans back on.

But Jack offers him a pair of sweatpants and actually looks anxious as he says, “I was gonna order take-out. You like sushi, right?”

Auston smiles in relief. “Sure. I can always eat.”

Jack answers his smile and when the doorbell finally rings with their food, it finds them cuddling on the sofa watching HGTV.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter specific warnings: watersports


	3. Winning Streak (Rakell/Klingberg)

Nilsson makes the save and they’ve won! John is first over the boards and, though he tries to be a little more restrained that Willy had been last year, still topples Nilsson with his fierce hug. And then everyone else is on top of him too and they are all hugging and shouting. John feels so happy he could burst with it, only the weight of the medal keeping him grounded.

Last year everyone had said they had only won because of Henke, because of Backstrom and Nylander. This year they’ve done it without any of them, with a sub for a captain and an alternate, and a switch as one of their goalies. Fuck anyone who said they weren’t good enough.

There's a jubilant atmosphere in the locker room with plenty of drinks being handed around in celebration and they are all swept up in the thrill of victory. 

John doesn't want the high to end, glancing around the room sure one of the doms must be looking for someone to scene with. In this, he misses having Henke around but he doesn't think he's going to have any difficulty finding a partner; Janny is still hanging off him and he gets plenty of looks from the other doms on the team.

First though he wants to be sure their younger subs are being looked after. For one, he’d promised Henke he would look out for Andersson, at least. John guesses Henke had made an impression on the teenager, though it gives him a pang something like jealousy to think of it. The young forward is practically in Hellberg’s lap and John can't blame him for that. 

Their other fellow sub, Kempe, is leaning against Hornqvist, who seems like a good guy. John had never heard anything bad about him, and he was pretty sure Big Rig would have warned him if it was necessary.

That still leaves him with most of the team to choose from but he has his own shortlist. Segs had told him Rakell was a good dom, not from his own experience but his best friend, Brownie, and Henke had put in a good word for Zibanejad.

The locker room is loud and John loses track of how many drinks he’s had, even before they get onto the coach.

John finds himself suddenly sitting in Rakell’s lap as the coach barks an order at them to, “Just pick a seat so we can get back to the hotel.”

Ricky laughs in his ear, a strong arm wrapping around his waist. John wriggles into the window seat beside him, then turns back and presses his lips to Ricky’s, suddenly desperate for the contract.

“Eager are you?” Ricky asks, wrapping one strong hand around John’s wrist. “Is that what you need?”

John nods, relaxing under the tight grip, letting the other man dominate the kiss. It seems like no time at all before they’re back at the hotel.

They stumble out of the elevator into a hotel room, John not entirely sure if it is his or Ricky’s and barely interested in checking. Ricky pushes him back against the door, a hand tight in his hair, and John tips his head back to bare his throat. “Please, sir.”

Ricky kisses him more forcefully, pushing his tongue into John’s mouth. Both their suit jackets are tossed to the floor, neither of them caring, and Ricky’s hands are under John’s shirt, hot against his skin.

He feels like he is flying already, the thrill of victory like the high of submission but he yearns for the bright spark of pain.

When Ricky pulls back, John says, “You can hurt me, hit me, I can take it.”

John’s hands are clumsy as he tries to pull off first his own clothes, then Ricky’s. Ricky pushes his hands away from his belt.

“Nothing’s going to happen tonight.” When John whines in protest, Ricky runs his fingers through John's hair reassuringly, tugging on it gently. “You’ve not done anything wrong. We’re both drunk. I’m not going to risk hurting you.”

They fall onto the bed, Ricky on top of him and John feels himself relaxing under that steady weight. The events of the day suddenly catch up with him and he can hardly keep his eyes open any longer.

** 

Rickard wakes up next morning slightly hungover, still half-dressed and with vague memories of the night before.

He realises there is someone else in his bed and, when he sees it is John, the memories come rushing back: John's offered submission, and fuck hadn't that been tempting, then just making out instead because apparently he was too damn noble.

John is still asleep so Rickard takes the time to admire him. He wasn't conveniently beautiful, not the stereotypical pretty sub, his features too angular but he was striking. Although Rickard doesn’t remember him stripping, he must have kicked off his shirt and pants in the night as he is naked now save for his boxers.

John stirs, as though he could feel Ricky’s gaze, which kind of makes him feel like the creepy vampire in that teen movie, but he can’t stop looking. Even though the scattering bruises were likely the results of blocking pucks and hockey hits, Ricky can imagine leaving his own marks on John’s pale skin.

Just as he makes the decision to get up, maybe try the coffee machine, John opens his eyes. Ricky freezes.

“Nothing happened last night?” John asks, sounding almost disappointed.

“You were pretty drunk, I wasn't sure-”

John stares back with those bright blue eyes and licks his lips. “I'm a sure thing.”

“Are you now?” Ricky can’t deny he is tempted and they have some time before their coach to the airport.

Stretching out gracefully, John rolls over onto his front, then up onto his knees and elbows, pushing his boxers down and presenting Ricky with the beautiful sight of his round buttocks atop thick thighs, corded with hockey muscle.

“Maybe you need to be punished for all the teasing you did last night,” Ricky says, unable to keep from touching, running his hands over all that bare skin.

John pushes his ass back into Ricky hands. “Yes. Please, sir.” He looks back over his shoulder, challengingly. “Unless you don't think you're up to it.”

Ricky gives him a testing smack, not at full strength but enough to leave a mark, enjoying the sting in his hand. John moans and drops his head to the pillow. “Not so cocky now?” Ricky asks.

John adjusts his position, resting his forehead on his crossed forearms and wriggles his ass at him. Ricky takes that as the encouragement it was surely meant to be, landing another couple of heavier blows to gauge how much force he can use. John only shifts position again, spreading his thighs a little.

Ricky puts more of his weight behind the next one and the sound of the smack rings as John gasps. “Sir, please, more.”

He doesn’t need any more of an invitation, slipping into a steady rhythm enjoying the sound of the blows landing, the breathy moans of the sub beneath him, the spreading red handprints across John's backside and thighs, and the growing heat under his palms.

There is nothing he loves more than having a sub beneath him, willing to take everything he can dish out. His own focus steadies, watching John for any sign of actual pain or tension but John stays perfectly relaxed. He doesn’t hold still, but then Ricky hadn’t told him to, and he wasn’t lying when he said he could take it.

When his hand starts to ache, Ricky pauses, wishing he had brought some of his equipment with him, a paddle or maybe one of the crops. John shifts as Ricky massages his reddened flesh, spreading his buttocks apart to expose the tight furled hole. He brushes a thumb against it and John spasms against him.

“Oh, yes please, fuck me,” John begs.

That’s what Ricky wants too but he isn’t going to make it that easy for John. Ricky teases him with gentle touches until John stops squirming and gives into his control, before sliding down the bed so he can get his face between John’s thighs. At the first touch of his tongue, John keens and tries to push back but Ricky grabs onto his hips, holding him still.

John relaxes again getting increasingly breathy as Ricky rims him until his hole is soft and wet, pushing a thumb into him. It isn’t enough to really get John ready but Ricky loves the needy sounds it draws out of him and the rush of knowing he is calling all the shots.

Eventually, his own need is enough that Ricky pulls back, reaching into the drawer beside the bed where he’d stashed his lube. Ricky starts with two fingers, confident John can take it, pushing them deep and then scissoring them apart.

John is so relaxed it doesn’t take long and, once he is prepped, Ricky helps roll him onto his back. John gasps as the change in position puts pressure on his surely sore buttocks but his eyes stay unfocused so Ricky figures it’s not the bad kind of pain.

Ricky takes John’s wrists and presses them up over his head. “Can you keep them there for me?”

John nods, clearly too far down to want to speak. Ricky leans down and scrapes his teeth over John’s collarbone, wanting to leave a mark. John doesn’t object so he bites down harder, sucking on the skin until it darkens satisfyingly.

He leans back then, helping settle John's ankles over his shoulders and pushes into him, pausing a moment to relish the hot tightness around his cock. Ricky doesn’t hold back, thrusting hard. He’s not going to last long, too wound up from everything they have already done. 

Still, he wants to make it good for John, likes it when his sub comes too. And John has earned his orgasm, even if Ricky’s still going to make him work for it.

He reaches between them to stroke John’s cock and his eyes flutter briefly open, his breathing hitching. Ricky leans in to whisper. “You can come once I’m finished.”

He starts to move again, building up into a hard rhythm, deliberately finding and pressing on the bruises on John’s thighs and ribs, the mark he’d left earlier. John’s head tips back, totally relaxed beneath him. Ricky wants to put a hand across John’s pretty throat but contents himself with pressing his thumbs either side, resting them on John’s collarbones.

When he senses his orgasm approaching, Ricky pulls out and finishes himself off over John’s ridiculous thighs, wanting to make a mess of him, lay his claim. He takes a moment to steady his breathing and watch as John squirms under him making plaintive noises. John’s cock is deep red and dripping precum.

Ricky takes pity on him and wraps his hand around him saying, “You’ve done so well. You can come now.” It only takes a few strokes before John cries out and comes.

Ricky lays down on the bed alongside John, curling round him and rubbing his hands over him, soothing away any aches, checking for damage.

He might love inflicting pain on his subs but this part, wrapping them in his arms, after they've been so good for him, is more than just aftercare. Ricky finds it deeply satisfying to have this moment of closeness before the outside world comes back.

Even when he's been in a long-term relationship, where his dominance is established day-to-day instead of just brief scenes, he's always enjoyed the cuddling.

“You want some cream?” It's only a short plane journey back to Stockholm but it's going to be pretty uncomfortable for John to sit down, probably for a couple of days. Maybe Ricky should feel more guilty about it but he's actually pretty proud of his handiwork.

John still looks slightly dazed but he gives him a sharp grin. “No, I want to feel it.”

Ricky is debating whether they have time for a shower, when there is a knock on his door. “Wake up, Ricky, you're missing breakfast,” Lindholm calls out.

John makes a noise of complaint.

“Have you got someone else in there, Ricky?” Linds sounds almost gleeful at the thought of chirping him. “Where did you manage to pick up? We came straight back to the hotel-”

“Is that Rakell’s room?” asks another voice. Janmark, Ricky thinks, John’s teammate from Dallas. “Ask him if he’s seen Klinger?”

Ricky can’t help but laugh and watches a smile spread across John’s face too. The look on their teammates’ faces is going to be priceless.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter specific tags: Spanking, Rimming


End file.
